


(whatever it takes)

by FortySevens



Series: Every Other Heartbeat [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: AND Visits From Traditional Force Ghosts For Once, Companion Piece, DameRey, F/M, Finn and Rose Are Assholes Who Ship It, Poe Dameron Needs Help Seeing The Forest Through The Trees, Post TLJ, Rey Is A Great Gift Giver, Sorry Fish Nuns, TLJ Spoilers, The Forest Being His Ass In An X-Wing, This Is Not Your Day Week Month Or Year, Visits From REALLY Non-Traditional Force Ghosts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-26 00:50:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13846578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FortySevens/pseuds/FortySevens
Summary: In the aftermath of the Battle of Crait and his sudden promotion into what little leadership the New Rebellion has left, Commander Poe Dameron decides it’s in everyone’s best interests that he stay out of the cockpit. They don’t have enough X-wings for him to take one anyway.It’s fine.On the other hand, Rey thinks it’s the opposite of fine and a really stupid decision, and after ranting about it for a few days to the ghosts that haunt their new Rebel base, she decides to do something about it.Aka: How Poe Dameron finally gets his groove back.





	(whatever it takes)

**Author's Note:**

> So, as soon as I decided in break me down and build me up that I was going to put the new Rebel base on Scarif and write what I wrote in moment three, I knew I was going to have to write a companion piece from Rey’s perspective. And by have to, I mean want to, because really, twist my arm to write more Damerey, right? 
> 
> Anyway, this is that piece. 
> 
> Title still from Imagine Dragons’ Whatever It Takes, but still has nothing to do with the creepy mermaids from the music video.
> 
> This was also HEAVILY inspired by a Tumblr post by thejadesabre (don’t click the link if you don’t want to be spoiled a bit): http://fortysevenswrites.tumblr.com/post/169637958439/batsonthebrain-thejadesabre-i-want-rey-to-go
> 
> Prompt of the chapter from [The Fake Redhead.com](https://thefakeredhead.com/tfrs-prompt-library/)
> 
> Number 206 
> 
> “You never called me back.” 
> 
> “Sorry. Time is weird and dangerous.”

Okay.

 

Enough is enough.

 

Because if Rey has to spend _one more kriffing day_ watching Poe stare forlornly out at the flight deck as their ramshackle fleet of X-wings flies in and out on patrols, on escorts, on missions she—she’s going to—she’s going to use the Force to chuck a crate of power converters _at his head_.

 

Or something.

 

 _Anything_ that will knock some _sense_ back into the stubborn wannabe ex-pilot.

 

“ _Ex-pilot_ ,” she scoffs. “Idiotic.”

 

Because really, this is getting ridiculous.

 

But first—

 

Rey scrambles back to her feet in the rough, out of the way circle of sand that she’s tracked out into her own training ring, little grains trickling off the wraps on her arms as she resets her stance, eyes flicking back and forth around the beach as she catches her breath.

 

“ _Again_.”

 

With a low grunt, she ducks under another imagined attack, but loses her footing in an uneven patch of sand that she failed to take into account and stumbles to her side, drops to her knees.

 

Face burning from a lot more than just the sun—she’s _never_ had this many issues navigating sand while living on the _literal sandball_ that is Jakku—Rey rolls back up to her feet and sweeps her arm out. She cuts the glowing lightsaber in her hand through the middle of the imaginary attacker while the Force ghost of  Chirrut Îmwe stands just beyond her circle, his arms crossed over his chest and his staff tucked into the crook of his elbow.

 

He tilts his head, unseeing gaze still tracking her every move, “ _Again_.”

 

A garbled noise born of frustration claws its way up her throat, and when Rey flexes her fingers against the hilt of her saber, more than a large part of her just wants to toss it away and collapse in an exhausted heap in the sand, maybe sleep curled up in its warmth for the next few weeks.

 

She doesn’t, of course she doesn’t.

 

But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t sometimes think about it.

 

Squaring her shoulders, Rey kicks at the sand by her right foot to smooth it out, sets her feet and starts the form over from the beginning.

 

Duck, swipe up, dive left, swipe, shift, dive, duck again, fall over her _stupid feet_.

 

“ _Again_.”

 

Repeat.

 

Fall.

 

“ _Again_.”

 

Repeat.

 

Duck the wrong way.

 

Stagger.

 

Regain balance.

 

“ _Again, but better_.”

 

Repeat.

 

Fall.

 

“ _Focus Rey. Again_.”

 

“I’m _trying_ ,” Rey grits through her teeth and sends a glare in Chirrut’s direction.

 

Even though he won’t _see_ it, she knows he’ll _know_ , and that makes her feel just a tiny bit better.

 

And then she flings her lightsaber around her body, shifts her weight and launches into a frustrated backflip that lands her on the opposite side of the circle, like having her body facing the waterfront instead of the base will have a more positive impact on her ability to get through the form to Chirrut’s annoyingly high standards _at least once_.

 

“ _Try harder_ ,” he says when she stumbles in the sand again. “ _You must clear your mind, Rey_.”

 

Finally, something in her just _snaps_ , “You try _clearing your mind_ when one of your friends is being a needlessly stubborn nerfherder!” She cuts through three imaginary attackers in quick succession, the memories of fighting off Snoke’s Red Guard playing out in her mind until all she sees is the color that had been draped around that awful room. “This is driving me crazy! You try focusing while also dealing with this nonsense!”

 

“ _I think you’ll find that nonsense in all men you encounter, and especially the men in the Rebellion_ ,” the Force ghost of Jyn Erso pipes up from where she’s seated cross-legged on the sand on the other side of Rey’s training area, shoulders hunched and her elbows propped on her knees as she takes in the show, a look in her eyes that screams with the desire to get in on the action.

 

If she wasn’t dead, of course.

 

“ _Hey!_ ”

 

With a smirk spreading across her face, Jyn turns to Cassian—who is never far from her side, and it’s adorable, really—and snorts, “ _Oh yes, you too_ ,” she says and pokes him in the side until he snags her fingers and places their twined hands on his knee.

 

Giving up, Rey drops to her butt, tosses her lightsaber on the sand next to her before she flops on her back hard enough that her legs flop up from inertia before they land in an ungainly heap that takes some of the pressure off her hips. She winces at the itchy feeling of sand sticking to her overheated, sweaty skin, but doesn’t try to sweep any of it away, because there’s already so much on her hands that there’s really no point in trying.

 

The ghosts of Rogue One let her wallow and catch her breath, before finally, Baze—who is leaning against one of the large palm trees and not commenting on her pitiful attempt at a workout with his oft-wayward husband—finally huffs at her, “ _Figure it out, little Jedi_.”

 

Rey sighs.

 

It’s not a whine, but it might be borderline.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

Tilting her head in his direction, she settles in to wait out his response. She’s always known Baze to be notoriously taciturn when not talking to Chirrut, but actually trying to have a conversation with him is like taking it on a whole other level. Back on Jakku, sometimes she’d go days without speaking with another soul—especially if the scavenging was bad and she was short on rations—but it’s nothing like trying to get information from Baze.

 

It’s like talking to the walls of her old AT-AT.

 

But then, _finally_ , Baze looks at her, flicks his fingers in the direction of the flight deck where—she tilts her head and gets sand down her neck when she checks, but no, Poe’s not out there wallowing anymore—an X-wing is about to take off and join the air patrol.

 

“ _Bring him what he needs_.”

 

Turning her head back and grounding _even more sand_ into her hair, Rey stares, but Baze doesn’t even bother to look at her, and—

 

And then she feels the air shift in the way that means Chirrut is about to smack her with his sometimes-corporeal staff, “Huh,” she manages as she rolls back to her feet, sweeps her lightsaber up in one quick move that sends sand flying all around her.

 

When Chirrut swipes at her ankles, she jumps over it and rounds on him, ignites her tablet and swings it, stops inches from his shoulder.

 

His sightless eyes are wide and full of amusement as he sets them on her, and she tilts her head back in Baze’s direction as the once-disjoined thoughts in her exhausted mind finally click together into something of a picture, “I think I might actually have an idea for that.”

 

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Bodhi walk up from wherever he is when he’s not haunting the base, and he stops on Jyn’s other side, holds his hand out to her. For a second, Rey thinks he’s about to help her to her feet, before he chuckles, long and low, and wiggles his fingers at her face, “ _Pay-pay up, Jyn. I told you she’d figure-figure it out._ ”

 

The curiosity on her face melts into a scowl, “Oh, seriously?”

 

Pushing Bodhi’s hand out of her face, Jyn rolls her eyes, “ _We’re dead Rey, it’s not like we have all that much else to do_.”

 

With a roll of her eyes that matches Jyn’s, Rey extinguishes her lightsaber and hooks it to her belt, brushes her hands off on the front of her shirt. Unfortunately, she’s too covered in sand to be much help, and she glances out of the corner of her eye at the water just meters away, for a moment considers the logic of going in for a dunk.

 

But trading sand for salt?

 

Probably not her best plan—though definitely _not_ her worst.

 

Which she is _not_ going to think about.

 

“I have to meditate on this,” she mutters and takes her first step out of the circle and in the direction of the base, but then she stops short and spins back around, looks Cassian in the eye, “And don’t even _think_ about breathing a word of this to General Organa.”

 

Cassian laughing isn’t something Rey hears all that often, but today, the sounds of his amusement echo behind her for the entirety of her walk back to base.

 

She’d be seething if it wasn’t actually something she’d like to hear more often.

 

—

Usually, Rey is one of the first organics out of the conference room following the morning briefing.

 

But on this morning a few days later, after a meeting that had very little to do with her and her role as the Rebellion’s Jedi who does awesome things when their backs are up against the wall, she tells Finn and Rose to go ahead, that she’ll meet them in the mess in a bit.

 

The looks she gets is of mirrored surprise, and she knows why—she’s the last person in the entirety of the New Rebellion who’d give up having first shot at whatever’s being served that morning, especially if it’s something made from one of the local sweet fruits they found not long after they landed on this little string of tiny islets that they now call home.

 

“Go ahead,” she says again, shooing them off in the direction of the door. “I’ll be right behind you, promise.”

 

Finn looks more than a little skeptical, but all the same still lets Rose tug him along and into the crowd of beings and bots that are headed out to start their days, and he waves behind them once more before they turn the corner and head down the hall.

 

When they’re gone, Rey shifts in her seat, trying to get comfortable as she waits.

 

And of course, her waiting draws Poe over to her from his position at the front of the room, all part of his new-old position as one of the few Commanders they have left. She bites her lip around a smile and waves him off too, because she really needs to talk this over with General Organa before she even thinks about bringing it up with him.

 

But Poe stands over her, considering, and when Rey tilts her head up, he reaches out and brushes his fingertips over the hairs curling around her ear—they’re not really into _public_ displays of affection, even if their close-friendship-that’s-slowing-verging-into-something-more is one of the worst-kept secrets in the entirety of the New Rebellion, and Poe must remember that too, because he drops his hand and takes a half-step back, a little bashful, “You had a little,” he gestures to the same spot on his head. “Sand.”

 

“It sure does get everywhere.”

 

She grins when Poe shakes his head at her terrible attempt at a joke, lightly touches his fingers to her shoulder before he pivots on his heel, “I’ll see you later?”

 

“Probably,” she shrugs a shoulder, spares a glance at General Organa and manages to catch her eye. “Yeah.”

 

While she waits for the crowd around Leia to thin, she toys with the water-worn crystal on her new necklace—after heading back to the flight deck, Poe helped her scavenge an old piece of leather, and then Jyn walked her through wrapping it around the barely-there notch at the top of the crystal—and she runs her fingertips over the impressions from the old carvings until General Organa finally shoos off the last of her attendants, the very last being C-3PO.

 

The golden robot shuffles out and the door slides shut behind him, and then General Organa props her hands on her hips, “Yes, Rey?”

 

“I was hoping to have a word with you.”

 

Pinning her with her considering gaze, General Organa props her hands on her hips before she crosses the room and sits down two seats away from Rey, and then—she waits.

 

Just because Rey knows that she has to be the one to start doesn’t mean it’s going to be easy to figure out the best way to say all the things that she needs to say.

 

The words sit heavy in her throat, because she’s not sure how General Organa is going to take her request, and part of her is a little worried that she might think that Rey is _seriously_ overreaching, but she finally forces out, “I know that this may not be the best time, but I need to go back to Ahch-To.”

 

For longer than she’s comfortable with, the only response Rey gets is the slightest uptick of one of General Organa’s brows in the direction of the Alderaanian mourning braid that’s still curled around the crown of her head. Rey resists the urge to grab at the crystal and toy with it again while General Organa cycles through whatever responses running through her mind, before she finally settles on, “I was under the impression that there wasn’t anything left for you there.”

 

It’s true, the only things left from Ahch-To to guide her in her Jedi training were the ancient books she smuggled off the island when she realized that, no matter what happened between her and Kylo Ren, Luke Skywalker probably wasn’t going to train her, but—

 

“It’s not something for _me_ , exactly,” she feels her cheeks go hot, but doesn’t look away from General Organa, no matter how much she wants to.

 

And then, _of course_ , a _look_ blooms across General Organa’s face when she realizes what this is all about, “Oh really.”

 

It’s not a question, which is generous, because while Rey _knows_ how to explain it all, she doesn’t _really_ know how to explain it without sounding like—

 

Sounding like something she doesn’t want to explain to General Organa before she works it out with Poe.

 

So instead, she tries to go with, “It’s something I’m pretty sure I’m going to need help repairing,” she trails off a little, in case General Organa wants to make any comments, but no, she’s still waiting, expectant. “So, not only am I hoping that you don’t mind if I leave for a few weeks, but I need Finn and Rose to come with me.”

 

Finally, General Organa responds with, “And you’re going to go whether I like it or not, aren’t you?”

 

“You know as well as I do that this place is a hotbed for Rebel activity,” she can’t help but joke.

 

They both laugh, and General Organa nods, a concession, “The _most_ Rebellious activity,” she agrees, and neither of them need to name the names of the ghosts they both see around the base, ghosts who somehow knew better than anyone that the Rebellion would one day return to Scarif. “Not fifteen minutes later, I was telling Vader and Tarkin that we just thought we ran into an interstellar pile-up while on a diplomatic mission on behalf of the Imperial Senate. And insulting them. A lot.”

 

Poe tells the stories with a lot more embellishment and some pointed words for the man who turned out to be General Organa’s biological father, which brings her right back to why she’s asking for this favor.

 

“I wouldn’t go if I didn’t think it was for the best for the Rebellion.”

 

Leia sobers too, “I know,” she agrees. “And the best thing for the Rebellion right now is to get Poe Dameron back in the air. Permission granted. Do what you need to do, but do it quickly, please. I don’t want the three of you off world for any longer than you have to be.

 

Standing and already lost in thought of all the supplies they’re going to have to gather before they leave—and pushing away the little flare of worry that her plan might not even _work_ —Rey nods once, “We will. Thank you.”

 

“May the Force be with you, Rey.”

 

Halfway to the door, Rey stops, turns back and smiles, “You too.”

 

—

Outside the conference room, Rey finds Cassian waiting for her, but without his ever-present fellow specter glued to his side like usual.

 

Vaguely, it occurs to her that maybe Jedi _don’t_ see those who are one with the Force nearly as often as she does, but—well, it’s not like she has anyone who’d know better to ask.

 

“ _Or maybe, you’re just unique_.”

 

Rey glances up one side the hall and down the other, finds that they’re alone, which makes talking to thin air just a little easier, “I don’t quite love the notion of being _unique_ ,” she says, low, in case there’s still anyone lingering who might overhear her half of the conversation. “That doesn’t end well in a fight like this, because people tend to start thinking that success rests on the shoulders of the few, rather than of us all.”

 

“ _I understand,_ ” Cassian shifts a little. “ _Perhaps more than most_.”

 

“You did fight this fight before the Jedi came back,” she tucks her hands into her elbows to stop from reaching for her necklace and rocks back on her heels a bit. “Do you need something?”

 

He shrugs one shoulder, one hand moving to his side to brace his ribs in the echo of one of the wounds he might have died from had the Death Star not about decimated the other side of the planet, “ _It’s a bit difficult to have needs at this point in my life—or, whatever the hells this is,_ ” he says, sounds a little silly. “ _I just want you to remember that this is more than just about getting a man back into a bird. Don’t forget that you’re going to have a life beyond this war. That was something I never let myself think about, and after I died I realized that there’s this part of me that wishes I did._ ”

 

“I’m doing what I have to, to ensure that we have futures.”

 

“ _I know you are. I just think it’s good to have a reminder, from time to time._ ”

 

Rey nods once, slow, “Can’t have Chirrut being the only dispenser of wisdom, can you?” When he laughs, she cocks her head in the direction of the conference room. “You should go say hello to General Organa. She could use a friendly face.”

 

“ _Maybe I will_.”

 

—

When she finally gets to the mess hall, they’ve run out of those sweet, fruity breakfast tarts, but bland food is and always will be better than no food. Rey sits down on the other side of the table from Finn and Rose, digs into her food with as much relish as they are with their better-tasting food, “So,” she says around a large bite of protein loaf. “I have a mission, if you’re up for it.”

 

The fact that Finn and Rose have to force themselves to shift back and away from one another, sliding in opposite directions on the bench, just so they can share a look of confused consternation, makes Rey snort into her next bite, “What _kind_ of mission?” Finn asks slowly, once he’s finally done having whatever wordless conversation he and Rose just had. “We’re not going back to Jakku, are we? Because if so, I’m out.”

 

Rey just grins.

 

—

Since their New Rebellion needs as much firepower as it can get, Rey requisitions one of the smaller shuttles to take her and Finn and Rose back to Ahch-To, leaving the Millennium Falcon behind to help defend the base. It’ll be a tight fit, with just one bunk for the three of them, but it’s not like Rey didn’t live in smaller quarters in the belly of her old AT-AT.

 

She’s stowing her bag in a cabinet when she hears footsteps coming up the ramp, one set, not two, and then she hears a knock on one of the bulkheads, “Permission to come aboard, Captain?”

 

Rey laughs as she turns, finds Poe leaning against the bulkhead with one hand tucked into the pocket of his fatigues, ever trying to look casual in spite of the turmoil that even now still tugs at his mind, “Permission always granted, Commander.”

 

“So,” he knows she knows what’s going on in his head—whether she wants to or not—seems to be resolving to ignore it. “Where are you off to?”

 

Tamping down at the urge to wince at the thought of lying to him, Rey resolves to look him in the eye as little as possible until she figures out the best way to extricate herself from this conversation, “Classified, per General Organa,” she says, does try to be at least a little apologetic.

 

Even though she’s got _nothing_ to apologize for, because she’s trying to get this man one of the biggest presents he’s gotten in his _life_.

 

“Classified field trip with two of your best friends? Strikes me as shore leave.”

 

Now, Rey _has_ to look him in the eye, “It’s not if you’re not with us,” she says, fierce, because he _has_ to know that.

 

He smiles, and the only reason it’s a comfort is that she knows he _can’t_ go with them, “It’s okay,” he shrugs one shoulder, shifts off the bulkhead and steps closer to her. “Even if I could get away with taking a few weeks, Leia probably wouldn’t let me go.”

 

Rey rolls her eyes at the dig, because it’s better than laughing over the fact that it’s really not even close to the actual reason why Leia won’t let him go with them, “I guess that’s what happens when you’re a big deal to the Rebellion.”

 

It’s probably not all the fair to needle him with the same joke they use with Finn, especially ever since she found out he was lying to her when they first met, but—it’s _still_ better than bringing up the fact that they’re leaving to find something for Poe that he may or may not even _want_.

 

He had better want it.

 

There’s really nothing more pointed than saying, _yes, you belong in an X-wing, and I’m really fired of trying to explain why_.

 

While she’s busy thinking about all those things, all the arguments they’ve had over the last few weeks and everything both said and not said about it, Poe comes up, hesitating for a moment before he grabs her wrist, settles his fingertips against her pulse and swallows hard, “You take care of yourself, you hear me, scavenger girl?”

 

“I can protect us,” she says, reaches across her body and grabs his arm just below his elbow. “I can’t tell you much, you know that, but it should be as low rick as anything else we’ve been getting up to lately.”

 

“If you’re going on some secret mission to infiltrate a First Order base, blink twice.”

 

That draws a laugh from her, and she shifts a little, drops her head against his shoulder, “Nice try,” she murmurs against his jacket as Poe drops her wrist in favor of wrapping his arm around her back, and she is _really_ going to miss him while they’re gone. “I thought it would be fun to take a scavenging trip back to Jakku.”

 

Poe huffs a pained laugh, drops his head and buries his nose in her hair, “Don’t even joke about that, scavenger girl,” he admonishes and squeezes his fingertips against her ribs. “Not funny.”

 

“It’s a little funny,” she counters, tries to squirm away from him, but he doesn’t let her go.

 

“I know you grew up there, but nothing about that place will _ever_ be funny.”

 

“I think I could tell you some stories that might change your mind about that.”

 

Poe presses his mouth against her hairline, “Save them for when you’re back.”

 

Outside, somewhere beyond the ship’s hold, Rey hears the echo of Rose’s voice as she asks for one last maintenance report before they take off, and Poe lets her pull away, his palm settling on the small of her back for a few heartbeats before he drops his hand back to his side.

 

It’s strange to think that the motion makes her feel _bereft_ , of all things, but she does, more than a little bit, and it hits her in her heart just how much she’s going to miss him these next few weeks, apart for the first time, pretty much since they met.

 

“If you need her,” Rey makes herself say through the lump that’s formed in her throat. “The Falcon’s yours.”

 

“Yeah, Leia mentioned that Chewie was staying behind with her,” Rey wrinkles her nose at how far he misses the mark, but he also misses the look on her face too. “It’ll be good to have, but I really hope we’re not going to need it.”

 

Okay, she really can’t let this go.

 

“No, I meant _you_ ,” she rolls her eyes. “She’s yours to _fly_.”

 

Something dark flickers across his face for a flash of a second, “Rey,” he sighs.

 

They don’t have time to start arguing about this, not again, so she’s going to cut this conversation off at the knees, “I don’t want to keep talking in circles with you, Poe,” she tries to be gentle about it, as frustrated as she is. “But you’re more than welcome to her, if you want. That’s all I meant.”

 

His smile is more than a little strained, but then Poe catches her wrist, runs his thumb over his pulse one more time before he drops her hand and steps backward, toward the hold, “Just be safe out there.”

 

All the backing up hurts her heart a little.

 

“We will.”

 

—

“You know you’re being just a little bit ridiculous about this, right?” Finn asks without preamble as he drops into the co-pilot’s seat not long after they took off and shot into hyperspace.

 

Without giving him the satisfaction of looking him in the eye, Rey rolls her eyes and smacks at one of the consoles until the indicator light stops flickering—they _really_ need to find an ally with some newer ships, because keeping their birds together with little more than tape and _hope_ isn’t going to win them this war, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

 

Finn snorts and she absolutely _does not flinch_ , “Sure you don’t,” he drawls in that manner he _definitely_ picked up from hanging out with the fighter pilots. Or Kaydel. Or R2-D2 and BB-8. Or all of the above. “Really Rey, we’re going halfway across the galaxy on some super-secret mission to get Poe an X-wing. A thirty-something year-old X-wing that might not even still _fly_ after being in the water for so long.”

 

“Well, it’s not like we have any other options,” she grumbles, finally looks at him sidelong with a scowl. “Would you rather we try to go to INCOM and ask for a new T-85? Or a new _fleet_ of T-85s? Or maybe we should go back to Canto Bight and ask one of our arms dealer friends who won’t call us back anymore for a new fleet.”

 

“Okay, now that’s not fair,” Finn glares at her hard enough that she feels the force of his gaze on the side of his face.

 

“ _I’m_ not being fair?” She just barely tamps down on the urge to screech in the most un-Jedi way possible, but she’s not going to, because she’s calm and collected and _definitely not_ annoyed with the pointed and all-too-knowing way Finn’s still looking at her. “ _Shut up_.”

 

“Oh well,” he kicks his feet up on the dash, ignores the death-like glare Rey shoots at him when he nearly hits a lever. “At least we’re not going back to fucking _Jakku_.”

 

Rey snorts, “Tell me how you really feel.”

 

Because _literally anything_ would be better than having to listen to him needle her about her feelings for Poe.

 

Yes, she has them, and yes, _everyone_ knows that she has them—except maybe the man in question—but that’s really not the point.

 

People just need to leave it the hell alone.

 

“You know, speaking of feelings,” Finn pipes up after a while, and Rey’s shoulders tense up in the general direction of her ears at how even and contemplative his tone is. “At least Poe will have to _finally_ confess his undying love for you, whether we bring the ship back or not. He has to, right?”

 

“That’s _not_ what this is about!”

 

_Damn it!_

 

Weren’t they supposed to be _done_ with this conversation?

 

“Of course, it’s not,” Rose pipes up as she walks into the cockpit, and Rey turns her scowl back down to the consoles, because the last thing they need is for her to accidentally knock them out of hyperspace in her frustration. “But you have to admit, it’s not a bad bonus.”

 

It takes everything she has, but Rey _doesn’t_ bury her face and a scream in her hands.

 

“Would you two _please_ knock it off?”

 

She doesn’t need to look up to know that Finn and Rose are grinning like a pair of loons behind her.

 

“No,” they chorus. “Definitely not.”

 

It’s going to be a _long_ trip back to Ahch-To.

 

—

And it is.

 

Not just because Finn and Rose _won’t fucking stop needling her_ about why they’re taking this trip, but also because their ship is _tiny_. Really, it’s only meant to be crewed by one, or two _at most_ , so it doesn’t take into account for the fact that there’s only one tiny crew cabin for three full-sized sentients.

 

Rey leaves it to Finn and Rose—mostly Rose, since her back is still healing from the whole mess that was Crait—and camps out in a little nest in the barely-there cargo hold, just like the old days on Jakku.

 

Where they’re not going, even though Rey has had to threaten the detour a couple times when the teasing got bad enough that it actually grated on her usually steady nerves.

 

And when they finally land on Ahch-To, it’s raining.

 

Rey’s almost jittery with excitement as she goes through shutdown procedures with Rose before she darts out the back of the ship, steps out onto the flat piece of land she first parked the Millennium Falcon on, all those long, long months ago before everything she thought she knew got turned upside down.

 

The rain soaks into her hair, her skin, her shoes, and she hasn’t felt this _peaceful_ since the one freak rainstorm they’ve had so far on Scarif—General Organa says that the world has a pretty strong monsoon season, but that’s months and months and months away, and who even knows if they’ll still be on Scarif by then?

 

The giant grin on her face widens as she watches the water run down her arms and off the tips of her fingers, and behind her, Rey distantly hears the shuffling that means Rose and Finn are following with their supplies.

 

“Wow,” Rose marvels, and Rey looks at her, watches her turn her head from one side to the other. “It’s so-so hilly!”

 

“The village isn’t too far,” she says, even though Rose sounds more excited about where they are than she does concerned. “Do you think you’ll be able to make it all right?”

 

Rose takes another look around, sets her shoulders and gets that look on her face like it doesn’t matter if her body wants to let her make the short hike or not, “I’ll be fine,” she says. And if not, you can use your awesome Jedi strength to carry me the rest of the way!”

 

With a laugh, Rey swings her arm around Rose’s shoulders, “I’d be happy to!”

 

By the time they do reach the top of the hill where the village is, Rey has all three of their packs on her shoulders while Finn helps Rose up the rise with an arm low around her waist. The rain has let up a bit, so it’s marshier than it is muddy, which is a blessing even though it’s still cold, which isn’t doing much to help Rose’s back.

 

Large shafts of sunlight have been breaking through the thick cloud cover, highlighting little bits of the landscape, and Rose beams just like them when she picks up on the movement within the cluster of stone buildings scattered around the terrace, “Who are _they_?”

 

Her voice draws the attention of a pair of the female, fish-like Lanai, who break off from whatever they’re doing to turn toward the trio of interlopers. Distantly, Rey hears them make that cluck-squawk noise back and forth at one another, picks up maybe every fifth word of what they say.

 

“They’re the native sentients of this world,” Rey waves sheepishly at them, and the Lanai both huff at her before they pointedly turn their back to them and scurry up the mountain, probably to tell the others that _The Great Destroyer_ has returned, if their now-frantic clucking is anything to go by. “They don’t like me much.”

 

At that, Finn looks _appalled_ , and a bit like he wants to fight them, “Why the hells not?”

 

Out of the corner of her eye, Rey spies the sheared-off side of the boulder she accidentally sliced in half while doing lightsaber forms, “I guess some of them think I’m a bit disruptive to their ecosystem.”

 

The wind whips around them from an oncoming storm, and Rey can just barely make out the sound of someone snorting.

 

She rolls her eyes and tilts her head in the opposite direction of the little village, “Come on, Rose, I want to get your opinion on how much work we have ahead of us before we settle in.”

 

—

Rose’s opinion turns out to be a long whistle and a series of comments in a language that Rey’s not too familiar with.

 

On the other hand, Finn looks like he knows a little bit of what he’s saying, and he also looks _shocked_ at the words coming from Rose’s mouth.

 

“Well?” Rey asks when she’s finally done with her tirade. “Do you think we can do it?”

 

“Can we do it? It would take a miracle, probably more supplies than we brought with us, and maybe another hundred miracles, and that all depends on if the hyperdrive’s corroded or not, because if it is, we’re absolutely screwed,” she says, but her eyes are bright, and she looks about a half second away from jumping up and down in her excitement. “I can’t wait to get my hands on her! This is going to be amazing!”

 

Then, she breaks off, tilts her head toward _Rey_ , “How _are_ we going to get my hands on her?”

 

Before she has a chance to explain, Finn drapes his arms around both their shoulders, shuffles them forward a little so they’re standing just off the edge of the ridge above Luke Skywalker’s sunken X-wing, and it’s only Rey setting her feet that stops them from taking a very painful tumble, followed by a very cold dip, “Just wait until you can see what Rey can do!” Finn says. “You missed it the first time, it was amazing! Saved all our skins!”

 

—

The storm breaks in the morning, just long enough for Rey to have a chance to lift the _ancient_ T-65 out of what was probably supposed to be its final resting place.

 

But it’s not like Skywalker’s around to protest.

 

Other than that impression of derision that Rey felt when they first arrived, all has been quiet from the other side of the Force, and Rey’s trying not to think about what they may or may not mean.

 

If Skywalker chooses not to be like Rogue One, then that’s his problem.

 

Anyway, they have more pressing things to worry about.

 

The first issue that she and Rose and Finn have to get a handle on—once Rose deterred that it’s not completely a lost cause and they didn’t waste precious Rebellion resources on a jaunt across the galaxy for fun—is that the hull is _covered_ in sea-like growths that need to be scraped off.

 

Rey’s fingers are numb and covered in small scratches in various stages of healing by the time it’s done, two days later, and if she never sees one of those clingy barnacles again, it’ll be too soon.

 

While Rose and Finn head down to the ridge where they’re keeping the X-wing to replace the rather crucial part of the hull that Skywalker tore off to use as a door to his hut, Rey begs off in favor of getting in some meditation down by that old tree.

 

Or, well, she _would_ had the tree not somehow turned into a burned-out husk in the month since she left.

 

“Huh,” she murmurs as she takes in the rain-soaked landscape for anything that would explain just _how_ the tree could have burned, and finally decides on just plopping down on the wet grass, closing her eyes as she settles in. “Well, okay then.”

 

“ _The Force works in mysterious ways_ ,” a familiar voice whispers on the wind, and Rey goes still, barely dares to breathe in case it decides to disappear on her. “ _Also, Master Yoda wanted to teach me a lesson._ ”

 

As much as a large part of her wants to, she doesn’t open her eyes, even as she feels the familiar presence that manifests itself beside her, “So,” her voice cracks, so she clears her throat and tries again. “You _are_ still lurking about.”

 

“ _I do actually_ like _it here_.”

 

They fall into silence for a while as Rey reaches out and brushes her mind against the impression the Force leaves with her, how she can see the shape of it form into the silhouette of Luke Skywalker seated cross-legged at her side, “I feel like I should thank you,” she finally says. “For giving them—giving us—the time we needed to get away from the First Order.”

 

Skywalker’s presence shifts, “ _I did the right thing_.”’

 

“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be thanked for it,” Rey counters. “I’m sure General Organa would say the same if you ever visited her.”

 

“ _Mostly, we just talk about her ever-evolving hairstyles_.”

 

Rey finally opens her eyes, arches a brow as she waits for Skywalker to look back at her, and when he finally takes in the look, he just shrugs, “ _It’s a family thing_. _The Amidala side._ ”

 

“I’ll take your word for it.”

 

Taking another break from the conversation, Rey slips back into meditation while Skywalker settles back in for—whatever the equivalent is when you’re already one with the Force—until finally, Rey has to ask aloud the question that’s been quietly hanging at her since she parted ways with Poe on Scarif, “Do you think I’m doing the right thing?”

 

It’s a moment of clear thought-gathering before Skywalker responds, “ _I think that there’s a marked difference between my decision to stop flying with Rogue Squadron and his,_ ” he finally says, words carefully chosen. “ _As much as I loved flying, that was not my path. Obviously, being a Jedi was_.”

 

She can’t help but snort, because that’s the _most_ obvious, and where would the galaxy be if Skywalker didn’t make that decision?

 

“ _Let’s not think about that_ ,” Skywalker adds. “ _But Poe Dameron is every bit the pilot his mother was, and Shara Bey was a_ great _pilot. You’re not forcing him into the cockpit by reminding him that that’s where the Rebellion needs him. You’re just supplying him with something that cuts out his excuses. Sometimes we need that._ ”

 

“Was it hard for you? To leave the Rebellion like you did?”

 

“ _I can’t say it was easy. I was leaving my friends, leaving my wing-mates, leaving my sister, even if I didn’t know that was what Leia was at the time. But the Force guided me to Dagobah, to Yoda, and without his guidance and his training, unorthodox as it was, there was no way I could convince my father to turn back to the light. There was always that light within him, deep down, and he needed my help to see that. I couldn’t show him that if I was just some pilot with, well, special skills_.”

 

“I don’t know if Kylo Ren shares that light with Darth Vader,” she mutters, even though she tried and tried to do anything _but_ bring up Skywalker’s nephew.

 

But Skywalker does not seem to be moved in either a positive or negative mood—

 

Becoming one with the Force must have done _wonders_ for his stress levels.

 

“ _He may not,_ ” Skywalker agrees. “ _But I hope you’ve realized by now that it’s up to him to decide. You saw what he did to Han, you saw what happened when you two faced down Snoke. Right now, his chosen path is to lord over the First Order._ ”

 

“I know,” she can’t help but scowl at the memories of her greatest failure, at how stupid and naive she was. “He made his choice and I made mine. I won’t let that cloud my judgement again.”

 

“ _Don’t let your loved ones cloud your judgement either. If the Force guides you toward a path that is not the same as the one the Rebellion might be on, know that the right thing may just be to part ways with it, for a time. Until you learn what the Force wants you to learn. Paths diverge all the time, and that is neither a good thing nor a bad thing. Trust in the Force._ ”

 

The prospect of leaving the Rebellion, of leaving the pilots and Chewie and Finn and Rose and Leia and Poe, of course leaving Poe, sends something hard and sticky into her throat, and Rey swallows around it until the feeling passes, even as she knows in her heart that Skywalker has a point.

 

If it happened to him, it’ll probably happen to her too.

 

History loves nothing more than to repeat itself.

 

“I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

 

“ _You had better, padawan,_ ” Skywalker shifts, pats his hands against his knees like he’s thinking about standing. “ _Now, don’t you have an X-wing to repair? I certainly did a number to it._ ”

 

Rey snorts, but does stretch her legs out in front of her, “You sure got that right.”

 

“ _It was the best place I could think to store it, at the time_.”

 

Rolling back to her feet, Rey stretches her shoulders back until they pop into place, “Oh yes, I’m sure you were thinking about its potential uses before you sunk it.”

 

“ _Obviously._ ”

 

—

The weeks without Rey and Finn and Rose are hard.

 

Not that it’s _ever_ easy to live on a military base in the middle of a war, but Poe’s never felt so—out of sorts without them around. For so many years it was just him and BB-8 and his pilots, but now it’s almost like it’s not enough for him to get by anymore.

 

It’s so bizarre how so few people, in such a short amount of time, can impact a person, a place and all its people, so much.

 

Yeah, he really misses them.

 

So, it’s heartening that he’s in Command when he hears Finn’s call come in over the comm., “ _Scarif Base, this is shuttle R10608, requesting permission to land_ ,” before Kaydel can reply with the available landing pad, he adds, “ _And a private word with General Organa, if she’s available_.”

 

Poe tilts his head in General Organa’s direction, asking a wordless question, but she’s completely expressionless as she steps up next to Kaydel and places the headphones over her ears, keys in the command to take Finn off the speakers, “Understood,” she says after a moment. “Set down on Pad 3, Finn. I’ll update the fighters.”

 

She passes the headset back to Kaydel, turns to Poe, “You should head up to the flight deck.”

 

“General?”

 

Finally, she smiles, “Just go. And you’re welcome.”

 

“I’m-”

 

General Organa points in the direction of the doors, and BB-8, the little traitor, points with its cattle prod too, “Go. Don’t make me make it an order, _Commander_.”

 

Since he really doesn’t want to be demoted again, especially not for following orders, Poe sketches a salute and backs his way out of Command with a, “Right away, General.”

 

His eyes narrow at the bright shafts of sunlight bearing down on the flight deck—it might be the first time he’s been outside in a couple days, since he’s been lacking the excuse to track Rey down while she’s training to remind her to do things like take breaks and eat—and it looks like it’s been raining on and off, if the massive, fluffy clouds that are obscuring most of the bright blue sky are anything to go by.

 

The grinding whine of engines draws his attention toward Pad 3, where the shuttle is setting down, and as BB-8 shoots ahead of him, Poe tries to convey as much calm professionalism as he can as he dodges crates of supplies and droids and his pilots to reach it as the rear hatch lowers.

 

But when only Rose and Finn disembark, Poe can’t help the frown that forms between his brows, and he stops short a few feet further than he planned, “Uh, guys, where’s-“

 

Before he can say anything more than that, the duo spots him, and then they start grinning like _absolute kriffing loons_.

 

And Poe realizes—he’s missed something.

 

Something important.

 

The frown doesn’t budge, and he tries to look beyond them for movement that would indicate Rey’s on her way down from the cockpit, but everything in the brightly-lit ship is still and silent—not that he can hear anything like the sounds of Rey’s light footsteps moving over the decking with the minutiae of the flight deck—and there’s no Rey in sight, “You guys leave Rey out on the hyperspace lanes?”

 

The thought of her gone like that, without a word and not coming back with Finn and Rose from wherever they were, sends a painful spike through his heart, and Poe squeezes his hands to fists, presses them to his sides to keep from grabbing Finn by the shoulders.

 

But Finn’s grin just goes wider, and something is _definitely_ up.

 

“Seriously guys, where’s Rey?”

 

He might be getting just a little worried.

 

Finn just smirks and points to somewhere above their heads, up in the direction over the cloud cover, which really isn’t either an answer or an explanation. Then, Poe sees Rose tap her ear and mutter to someone on what must be a private comm. feed, “Hey,” she says. “We’re ready down here.”

 

Finally getting his feet to cooperate, Poe stops in font of Finn and crosses his arms over his chest, tries to exude every inch of his position, even if it’s to a man who’s seen him at his worst, “What? Did you guys steal us a squadron or something?”

 

“Not exactly.”

 

“Buddy, did you trade _Rey_ for a new squadron?”

 

Finn rolls his eyes, elbows Poe in the side, “Stop talking and look up.”

 

“At _what_?”

 

All Finn does is favor him with a pointed look before he turns his focus to the sky, and then—

 

He hears it.

 

It’s hard to tell what’s coming with all the cloud cover, and the sound is a little different from the fighters he’s used to, but then—

 

An _X-wing_ , one not painted like the ones in their ramshackle fleet, bursts from the clouds to the east, does a jaunty barrel roll above their heads and buzzes the base before taking back up to the skies, spinning as it shoots straight into the clouds.

 

Poe’s eyes are wide as he tracks it, “What is _that-_ “

 

The X-wing bursts from the clouds again, does an _actual backflip_ that reminds Poe of the time Rey demonstrated when she flipped the _Millennium Falcon_ back and upside down on Jakku with a soup bowl and some scraps of bread—and then he realizes where Rey is.

 

_Oh._

 

He gapes as the fighter sets down not far from where they are, until he can finally see Rey through the canopy of the X-wing that they must have picked up _somewhere,_ watches her go through the shutdown procedures as the deck crew runs a ladder up to its side.

 

His heart is up in his throat, words thick on his tongue, but somehow, he manages to keep his voice steady when he asks, “Where’d you guys say you went again?”

 

Finn just laughs and claps him on the shoulder, “Come on, Poe, you can figure it out.”

 

“What-”

 

His jaw drops a little as one of the deckhands lifts the canopy of the rogue, battle-scarred starfighter, but before he can finish whatever the hells he was going to ask, Finn pushes on the hand that’s on his shoulder, propelling him forward, propelling him toward Rey.

 

By the time his stupid feet get him across the flight deck, Rey’s climbing down the ladder, eyes bright and half a little bused from the helmet she probably had on for a few hours, “Hey there flyboy,” she grins and hops down the last two steps to meet him, and a beam of sunlight breaks through the cloud cover, turning everything bright and golden. “We’re back.”

 

—

“ _Remember how I said you were being ridiculous about all of this? I stand by that statement._ ”

 

“Finn?”

 

“ _Yes Rey?_ ”

 

“Shut up and contact base. The last thing we need is for our patrols to do their job and shoot me out of the sky.”

 

—

Even though she _knows_ she has to focus on landing the fighter and going through the proper shutdown procedures, Rey still tries to scan the flight deck for Poe.

 

But first, her eyes set on those bright presences in the Force that are Rogue One, all clustered off to the side to watch the show.

 

She resists the urge to scowl, only because she knows they can’t see it.

 

Then, she finds the pad their shuttle landed on, which leads her to Finn and to Rose and to Poe, who looks—

 

Like he’s been punched in the gut, actually.

 

It she’s honest, it’s not a bad look on him.

 

But she might also be pretty damn far gone.

 

Hey, it’s not like Finn and Rose are _wrong_.

 

Rey finishes the manual shutdown sequence—really hopes that what she and Rose rigged for BB-8 will work, because it’s _so tedious_ —and she tugs off her helmet just as one of the deckhands slides the newly repaired canopy open, takes her first breath of salty air for the first time in more than a month, and that’s when it hits her how much she _missed_ it.

 

Now free of the barriers of her helmet and transperisteel, her gaze settles back on Poe, and yeah, she’s missed a _lot_ about Scarif.

 

Running through the last of her post-flight checks as quick as she can, Rey levers out of the cockpit, scurries around the deckhand and down the steps, “Hey there flyboy,” she grins, takes the final two at a hop and takes those last few steps to Poe, ends up so close that the toes of their boots are almost touching. “We’re back.”

 

Poe doesn’t say anything, just stares at her, and Rey rocks back on her heels a bit, waves one hand in the direction of the fighter, “I uh, got you something,” she says, feels a little stupid, because what else could this be?

 

“I know it’s just a T-65 and she needs one hell of a paint job and you’re probably used to flying much newer birds,” she starts rambling and her cheeks go hot when she realizes she can’t stop. “But Rose and I managed to upgrade the systems a bit so they’re more like the T-85s, and we made a few mods to make sure BB-8 can fly with you that we need to check out now that we’re back and can borrow it for a bit, and-“

 

“Rey-,” finally, he speaks, cuts her off, and Rey nods once, wordlessly prompting him to maybe say something else. “What is this?”

 

She still feels a little, well, out of sorts, and there’s a part of her that thinks this might not go the way she hopes, especially the longer Poe goes without saying more than a couple four-word sentences, “Well, I had this thought, that you might actually want to get back into a bird if there _was_ one for you,” damn it, why can’t she just string together _one coherent sentence._ “And I knew where to find one, you know, back on Ahch-To, so Rose and Finn and I-“

 

“Rey, is this _Luke Skywalker’s X-wing?_ ”

 

His jaw’s dropped a little as he gapes over her shoulder at the bird, and Rey nods, “Yeah, it was-“

 

But then Poe cups her cheeks in his hands and kisses her within an inch of her damn life.

 

He’s kissing her.

 

 _Poe_ is kissing her.

 

Poe is kissing her _in full view_ of every member of the Rebellion that’s on the flight deck.

 

And she’s too stunned to respond, her brain too sluggish after spending so long flying the fighter back to base from Ahch-To, which is a pity, because he breaks away far too quickly and sweeps her up into a massive bear hug, talking a mile a minute about _the things he’s heard about this fighter_.

 

Then he runs off, taking the steps up the ladder two at a time.

 

 _Damn it_.

 

Off to the side, Rey sees Jyn and Bodhi _absolutely losing it_ while Cassian looks on with at least some sympathy, but mostly laughter in his eyes—which is absurd, because Cassian never looks anything but impassive for anyone other than Jyn, and maybe Leia when he thinks no one is looking—so Rey turns so she can’t see them, because the last thing she needs is to yell at them for being the original Rebellion’s best team of _assholes_ in full view of the flight crew and the pilots and everyone else who saw Poe kiss her.

 

Because he kissed her.

 

 _Damn it_.

 

Rey startles a little when an arm wraps around her shoulders before she realizes that it’s just Finn—and so she _doesn’t_ fling him over her back—and they stand together and watch Rose climb the ladder and lean against the side of the fighter, pointing out all the modifications they made over the last few weeks to Poe, who looks half like he wants to know everything they did and half like he wants to shove her out of the way and take it for a spin.

 

It’s a really nice sight, not just because she’s a little loopy from being kissed so hard or because Poe’s grinning in a way she’s never seen before or because it’s so beautiful in this home they’ve carved out on Scarif, with the clouds fluffy and white and broken up with yellow sunbeams, and a light breeze comes off the water, scenting everything with salt and sand.

 

Just—it’s really nice to be home.

 

“You think Poe has any idea he just kissed you in front of everyone?”

 

Rey snorts, drops her head on Finn’s shoulder, “Not a one.”

 

—

That night, after showering off the stink of days and days and days of travel, Rey’s in her quarters, half asleep even as she runs a comb gifted from Leia through her damp hair.

 

The knock on the door wakes her up, just a little, and she muffles a yawn against her palm as she places the comb on her small nightstand—little more than an empty crate scavenged from somewhere else on base—and rolls off the bed, pads across the room.

 

Poe’s on the other side of the door, because of course he is.

 

“Hi.”

 

“Hi.”

 

His hands are stuffed deep in his pockets and she feels the familiar heat of his gaze on her, which is her first reminder that yeah, she’s only wearing the flimsy and worn clothes she wears to sleep.

 

And yeah, she and Poe may have fallen asleep in the same vicinity or even on one another once worn twice or a handful of accidental times, but those have all been in places that could be considered at least semi-public, and they were always fully clothed.

 

But now? Her standing barefoot in an oversized t-shirt and loose pants? This is different.

 

Plus, he kissed her earlier.

 

Everything is different now.

 

Poe goes a little red in the cheeks—yet another thing Rey’s not sure she’s ever seen from him before and can definitely stand to see again—and he pulls a hand from his pocket, scratches the back of his neck, “I’ve uh,” he bites his lip, which is damn distracting. “I’ve had no less than twelve people inform me in the last hour that I’m an idiot.”

 

It takes everything she has to not burst into peals of laughter and tell him that just as many people have told her the same—probably the _same_ people, even, save the five friendly ghosts that haunt their base, ghost who _still_ haven’t stopped laughing since it happened—but since she’s pretty sure he already knows that, Rey just steps to one side, “Come in.”

 

He does and the door slides shut behind him, cutting off the echoes of the late shift, leaving them alone and standing in the middle of the glorified closet that is her quarters.

 

“So,” she prompts, because if they’re going to talk about this, then _he’s_ going to have to say something so she knows how to respond.

 

Finally, after very clearly thinking about whatever it is he wants to say, he goes with, “You went out and got me a bird.”

 

“Yes, I did.”

 

“Because you think I should be in the air?”

 

She shakes her head, “Because I _know_ you should be in the air.”

 

“Rey,” he sighs, trails off and looks down at their feet.

 

“You should be,” she says again, sets her feet like they’re going to get into a physical fight about this, and knowing who’s been training her the last few months and hearing the stories about how _he_ made his overtures to _his_ husband, they just might. “Just because you’re in high command now, it doesn’t mean you _can’t_ lead from the front line.”

 

She knows that, he knows that, and she doesn’t have to list all the members of the old Rebellion leadership that he told her about who did just that.

 

See especially: General Leia Organa.

 

“You belong in the air, Poe. I’ve always stood by that.”

 

“I know.”

 

Rey blinks, because that’s—

 

Not what she expected to hear him say.

 

“You do?”

 

Raking a hand through his hair, Poe reaches out with his free hand and clasps her wrist, fingertips resting against her skittering pulse, which probably isn’t helping him find the calm he’s seeking, “ _Rey_ ,” he rasps like it’s almost painful for him to speak. “You _crossed the galaxy_ to get me an X-wing. I’ve been so stubborn about all of this, but you did it anyway.”

 

Her cheeks go hot, “You know how I get when people try to tell me what to do.”

 

With a low chuckle, Poe runs his thumb over the scar left behind when she dug out the tracker Unkar Plutt implanted in her arm, the very first time she decided she wasn’t going to let anyone try to tell her how she was supposed to live her life, “I know,” he smiles. “And uh, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

 

Her brows knit together, “What the hell for?” She blurts before her brain catches up with her stupid mouth.

 

“For kissing you,” he says in a nearly jumbled rush. “In front of the base.”

 

He tacks on that last part quickly, so at least he’s not apologizing for _actually_ kissing her.

 

And if he is, he better not be.

 

“I just,” he goes on like he can’t stop, which is a familiar feeling. “I probably shouldn’t have done that.”

 

Because he’s so busy apologizing to her toes, Poe misses the way Rey rolls her eyes in the direction of the ceiling, prays to the Force for patience, “I still don’t know why you’re apologizing. You didn’t do anything _wrong_.”

 

Finally, he looks up at her through his lashes, and the tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks are bright red, “I mean, I’m not apologizing for kissing you,” well, that’s good to know. “I just know that you’d probably rather not have the entire base know, you know, about us.”

 

Her brows furrow, mostly in exasperation, and part of her wants to throw her hands in the air and tell him he’s being an absolute moron, “Come on, Poe, everyone already knows.”

 

“No, it’s just that,” Poe breaks off and finally looks at her straight on, tilts his head in that cautious way that’s not too dissimilar to how he’d look if he were facing down a rancor, or something, but the blow is softened a bit with the way he takes her hand again. “Should I stop apologizing?”

 

 _Finally_.

 

“Yes.”

 

He blinks once, slow, but his gaze is still intent on hers, “And is there something else I should be doing?”

 

Fisting her hand in the front of his t-shirt, Rey tugs him close enough that their noses brush, and his hand drifts up her arm to cup the side of her neck, “Kissing me again would be a good start.”

 

That slow, easy smile spreads across Poe’s face as he brushes his lips against hers, but before Rey has the chance to deepen it, Poe slides his nose against hers and kisses the corner of her mouth, her cheek, the cluster of freckles below her eye, but then he—

 

Freezes.

 

“Wait-” his breath ghosts over her cheek.

 

“Oh, what _now_?” She snaps and tugs with the hand still fisted in the front of his shirt, can’t help but be a little frustrated, because they’ve talked the flying thing to death and they both could and should be doing a lot more fun things right now than _talking_.

 

For _months_ now, all they’ve done is talk.

 

And it’s almost been more than a month since she’s seen Poe and she _really_ just wants to make out with him right now, and then cuddle until he has to go on shift and she has to go train.

 

 _Why_ is that so much to ask for?

 

With a laugh that sounds like he knows _exactly_ what she’s thinking—damn it, he had better—Poe brushes his mouth against her forehead, but then pulls away and—looks around her room?

 

“It’s just,” he breaks off again, kisses her temple before casting another glance around. “I mean, we’re _alone_ right now, right?”

 

Rey turns her head left and right, sees nothing but her _clearly empty quarters_ , “ _Yes_ , we’re alone.”

 

“No,” Poe pulls her back in and laughs against her forehead when she grumbles. “I mean, are we _alone_ , alone? You know, no friendly ghosts that I can’t see lurking around in the corner or anything?”

 

A bark of a laugh escapes her, is muffled by his shirt, and she blinks up at him, “ _Yes,_ we’re alone,” she growls, tugs him back in by her grip on his shirt and kisses him herself.

 

The second touch of Poe’s lips on hers is familiar in a way Rey’s never allowed herself to imagine before, and she sighs as she opens her mouth to the gentle press of his tongue. A moan escapes her throat as she wraps her other arm around his shoulders, rakes her fingers through his hair before sliding them up and down the side of his neck, light enough that he shivers and groans against her mouth.

 

Poe strokes his fingertips over her cheek, gently tilting her to change the angle, and Rey whines when his other hand slides under the hem of her t-shirt, his fingers tracing aimless patterns on the skin of her lower back.

 

It feels like the room is spinning around them, which is probably just her, and the mixture of election and exhaustion that sends her adrift, even though she wants nothing more than to stay wrapped in Poe’s arms, trading kiss after long, slow kiss, until Scarif’s sun burns out.

 

Finally though, her body betrays her completely, and even though she _really doesn’t want to_ , Rey breaks away, buries her yawn into his collarbone, “Sorry, sorry,” she mutters against his shirt when her jaw finally starts functioning the way it’s supposed to.

 

Poe just chuckles, long and low, and kisses whatever skin he can reach—her temple, the curve of her ear, the side of her head, “I don’t know what you’re apologizing,” he echoes her from earlier, with a little added inflection that she’d grumble about if it didn’t take just about all of her energy to just say on her feet. “You’ve had a long week. I can go, if you want.”

 

“I do _not_ ,” she grumbles against his neck, tugs him closer to her for good measure. “Don’t even think about it.”

 

“Wasn’t thinking it for long,” Poe spreads the hand on her back, pushes gently so he’s supporting more of her weight. “Come on, scavenger girl, let’s get you into bed.”

 

She lets out a happy hum at the thought of sleeping on a real, if second-hand, bed for the first time in _months_ —being in the Rebellion has truly spoiled her sleeping habits, and there’s no part of her that cares—and there’s a chance that she’s not going to get up for at least the next few days.

 

Especially not if Poe’s in there with her.

 

He leads her across the room and eases her down by the foot of the bed where she kind of just, _flops_ , and strips the thin covers back before he grabs her hand, tugs gently, “Come on, in you go.”

 

With eyes only half-open, Rey slides under and settles on her side, whines in the back of her throat and grabs Poe’s wrist when he tries to shift away from the bed, “Not going far, Rey,” Poe chuckles and shifts their grip so his hand cups hers, and he leans down and brushes a quick kiss across her frowning mouth. “I’ll be there, just give me a second.”

 

She hums and finally lets her fingers slide away, watches him even as she starts to drift back off, watches him strip off his shirt before he shuts off the lights. Rey just barely manages to stifle a sniffle a whine, because she’s too tired for her eyes to adjust to the darkness as quickly as usual.

 

There’s another rustle of clothes that _really_ makes Rey regret Poe’s decision to turn the light off, but then he’s back by the bed and sliding in beside her, all hard muscles and warm skin and a few scars left over from his short-lived career as a spy that—

 

That they’re _not_ going to think about right now.

 

Poe slides his arm over her back, palm running warm and sure under the hem of her shirt before he settles it between her shoulders, urging her to lie on her side against him, “This okay?” He asks against the curve of her cheek, but breaks off with a chuckle and a broken-off whine when Rey snuggles closer and fits one of her feet between his calves. “You grew up in a desert, scavenger girl, why are your feet so cold?”

 

Letting her eyes slide all the way shut, Rey laughs and tucks her head against his shoulder, “How am I supposed to know?”

 

With a laugh, Poe mouths against her temple, strokes his thumb against her shoulder blade as he shifts a little so he can reach her mouth, presses against her soft and slow, strokes his tongue over the curve of her lower lip in a way that makes her whine.

 

Rey slides her fingertips over his collar, strokes over the fluttering of his pulse until he groans into her mouth, and then she twists her fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck as he rolls them over, pressing her back into the mattress.

 

When Poe breaks away from her mouth to press a line of short, sharp kisses down her neck, Rey whines gain, traces her fingers over the smooth, defined muscles of his upper back. With the hand still tangled in his hair, Rey tries to bring him back up to her mouth, but has to stop and stifle a yawn with the back of her hand, “Sorry,” she murmurs, rolls her eyes when Poe chuckles against her skin, sets his teeth into the thin skin where her neck meets her shoulder hard enough that she bucks against him.

 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Poe kisses that spot on her neck again, and then her cheek, before he rolls off her and strokes his palm up and down her side. “It’s okay. We have time.”

 

Touching her fingertips to the arch of his cheek, Rey shifts a little, presses her lips to his, soft and lingering, “Yeah, I know,” she murmurs against his mouth, kissing him once more, and then again for good measure. “Will you take the bird out tomorrow?”

 

“BB-8 and I are probably due for a test flight,” he muses, brushing his nose against her temple as he shifts and gets comfortable against her pillow. “I want to see what this thing can do.”

 

Rey drops her head to his shoulder and lets her eyes drift shut again, spreads her palm out against his side, “And maybe a race against the Falcon? See what a pair of old warbirds can do?”

 

“ _Definitely_ a race against the Falcon.”

 

—

The next day:

 

“ _You’ve got a little—”_

 

“You’re blind, you can’t see that.”

 

“ _The Force shows me what I need to see_.”

 

“Bullshit. Who told you?”

 

“ _The Force showed me_.”

 

“That’s not how the Force works!”

**Author's Note:**

> 1 Leia’s reference to an interstellar pile-up comes from a gif-set I saw on Tumblr once about how Leia is SUCH a great liar to Vader and Tarkin, since she was literally on the Profundity over Scarif when Vader boarded it. Smooth damn criminal.
> 
> 2 I don’t know how the Force works either.
> 
> 3 Originally, this wasn’t going to have anything from Poe’s direct perspective, but then…well, I had to.
> 
> 4 In case you haven’t noticed, “That’s not how the Force works” is one of my favorite lines in the entirety of the Star Wars canon.
> 
> Prompt of the chapter from [The Fake Redhead.com](https://thefakeredhead.com/tfrs-prompt-library/)
> 
> Number 206 
> 
> “You never called me back.” 
> 
> “Sorry. Time is weird and dangerous.”


End file.
